


don’t you know

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24792946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wolffe was an impenetrable wall shaped by bitterness and hardship, a steady, firm presence that never once wavered or broke.Until now.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CC-3636 | Wolffe, implied Comet/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 97





	don’t you know

He remembers when Wolffe used to laugh.

He's not ashamed to say that he misses it the most out of all of his brothers' lost innocence- _although he particularly mourns Rex’s happiness in the small things the most, in food and sights and sounds, because he’d looked so **small** the last time he’d seen him, so_\- _so thin and frail, and it felt **wrong** -_, misses the way his eyes would practically _shine_ , the way his joy was a contagious, unstoppable thing, the way he would smile, so kind and soft despite his rough exterior.

It’s safe to say Wolffe doesn't laugh anymore.

He doesn't smile, either, and Cody doesn't know _why_ that bothers him so much, but it _does_. Because it scares him, when he finally sees Wolffe again, when he sees his red, angry looking scar that still looks tender and inflamed, but the most terrifying thing is the look of pure indifference on his _vod’s_ face, like he _isn’t_ sporting a devestating wound, like his skin _isn’t_ currently burning- _Cody knows from experience that it is, knows that it feels like his face is on fire everytime it moves, and he wants to hold him, offer him reassurances that it gets better, that one day all this pain will **mean something** but he doesn’t. Can’t-_ and he frowns at him.

Wolffe catches the motion, his eyes flickering over to him sharply, lips curling defensively- _always defensively, especially after he lost his battalion, a protective mechanism of his own, Cody supposes-_ but he looks away when General Kenobi dismisses them, giving General Koon a barely there nod before turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Cody follows after him.

" _Vod_ -"

It says a lot about how bad Wolffe is when he’s almost immediately pressed against the wall, a forearm across his throat and applying just enough pressure to be a threat. "Don't," Wolffe snaps, voice harsh and angry, and Cody doesn't fight the hold, just shifts to ease some of the discomfort. "Don't _karking_ start with me."

From this close, Cody realizes he'd been wrong. Wolffe's wound isn't scarred, isn't just red and inflamed, and although the worst of the burns have healed, it's barely begun to scab over, the work of a hasty bacta patch, and he frowns. "That looks like it hurts."

Wolffe bares his teeth, feral, and something broken passes through his one good eye. "Don't patronize me, _Cody_."

"You shouldn't have that in yet." He gestures to the cybernetic eye. He doesn't miss Wolffe's flinch. "It's just going to aggravate it further."

Wolffe stares at him for a moment, and Cody can _see_ the strain he's putting himself under, the guilt and pain and _worthlessness_ he carries. His wound oozes blood, dark red and damning, and Wolffe's facade crumbles for all of a second, just long enough for him to catch the smallest of glimpses at the pain he's in before he's once again emotionless. "Aggravate," Wolffe murmurs under his breath, and a tight, disbelieving laugh escapes him. "Does it look _aggravated_ to you, Commander?"

"You're not okay."

Wolffe releases him, holds the eye contact long enough to slip on his helmet, and then Cody is facing yet another mask. "None of us are."

An understatement. Cody has seen plenty of _vode_ have a breakdown, has experienced many himself, but Wolffe? Wolffe was an impenetrable wall shaped by bitterness and hardship, a steady, firm presence that never once wavered or broke. Until now. “Have you even cared to learn their names?" Cody asks, and sees Wolffe sway with the indecision of walking away. The 212th had sent more than a few of their own troopers to help build back the 104th, but it didn't matter how many numbers they acquired if their commander was compromised. "They're your pack now, Wo-"

"My _pack_ is _gone_." Wolffe snarled. "I watched them die, I heard their _screams_ , and we couldn't even _fight back_ to-" His voice cracked, his chest-plate rising and falling with the panicked rhythm of a shinie, and Cody waited, watching him carefully. "Boost and Sinker are all I have left. My _pack_? Is them, not- not some rag-tag team of leftovers from all your _karking_ _glorified_ battalions."

"Is that what you think this is? My pity?"

"Please," Wolffe scoffed, and Cody could practically see the eyeroll, as well as the way he tensed in pain at the action. "As if that's not _exactly_ what it is."

"I don't-"

"Say it." Wolffe challenged, taking a step forward with fists clenched. "Go on, say it. I know you're thinking it. They're _all_ thinking it."

"No, they're no-"

"I'm a failure, right?" Wolffe was oddly breathless, chest still heaving as if he couldn't quite draw in enough air. "A commander who couldn't even keep his battalion alive, couldn't even protect him _self_. Lost his eye and can't bounce back, that's what you're thinking, isn't it?" Cody eyed the door the Jedi would be coming out of any moment, but his gaze snapped back when Wolffe took another step forward. "Defective, a commander not worthy of his rank. Tell me, _Marshal Commander_ , do you think less of me?"

"You know I don't."

"I think you do. I can see it in your eyes, you're questioning whether or not I can make it, if I'll be able to lead a battalion of men that I don't know with one eye."

"Wolffe, I've never thought less of you, _never_. Losing your eye means nothing to me.”

"You don't understand." Wolffe bit out, shaking his head and taking a decisive step back. The door to their left opened with a soft hiss, and the generals stepped out, nodding politely at Cody and murmuring a soft acknowledgement.

When Cody looks back, Wolffe is gone.

* * *

He rips off his helmet and throws it with a shout at the opposite wall. The right side of his face pulses in time with his heart, too fast, too much, and he takes a deep, shaky breath to try and lessen the ache. It doesn’t work, he knew it wouldn’t, but it still makes his good eye grow hot with-

_No._

He lets out a frustrated noise, kicks at his bunk and relishes the pain that flares up his leg, and all the while his disgust grows.

Disgust at himself, for not protecting his _vode_ , for letting them die a cold, terrifying death, while he gets to live, gets to make the _same mistake again and he won’t do it he **can’t** -_

He suddenly stops, just noticing it. Slowly, disbelieving, he looks down at his hands, and- _yes, yes they’re shaking_ , and he wraps his arms around his torso to try and steady them. His commlink suddenly gives one short, shrill beep, and he startles, stares at it warily until it goes silent again.

His armor feels tight and restricting, oppressive, and he reaches up with trembling hands to start stripping it off. He’d painted it, of course he had, but it’s not _really_ his. No, his armor was destroyed along with the _Triumphant_ all those weeks ago.

Destroyed along with thousands of other sets of armor and their wearers.

For a moment, when he closes his eyes, he can see them, can see their bodies floating in space, can see the frost coating their armor and it _hurts_ , because they’re _never coming back._

“They’re gone.” He says, staring down at his chest-plate, vision blurred and grey, just to hear it said aloud, because he should be over it, but he’s _not_ and the 104th will _fail_ if he can’t-

He tightens his hold on the chest-plate before letting it drop from his numb fingers, kicking it to lay hazardously with the rest of his kit. It still feels wrong, he still feels heavy, weighed down, and the edge of his bunk digs into the backs of his knees hard enough to _hurt_ before he finally lets himself sit.

“They’re gone.” He spits again, just to hear it, just to try to make himself understand, because no matter how much times passes it still feels fresh, still feels _new_.

“They _are_ gone. But you’re not, we need you here.” He hadn’t even noticed Cody leaning against the doorframe, and it makes his frustration grow all the more. His thoughts are all he has, the only way to silently bleed his pain without burdening another with his weakness, but Cody seemed determined to take that from him as well.

“Leave.” He grits out, swipes a hand across his eye, but it grows hotter still with tears of frustration when it makes his entire face light up in agony.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, _vod’ika_.”

“Don’t _ika_ me.” Wolffe snapped, horrified when he felt wetness on his cheek, and he swiped at it again angrily, almost biting his tongue in an attempt to suppress the noise that crawled up his throat. “Get lost, I don’t need you.”

Cody pushed off the doorframe and stood before him, the control panel flashing red as the door slid shut. He didn’t say anything, just regarded him for a moment with an unreadable expression, and Wolffe realized that he was waiting.

_Waiting for me to break._

Despite knowing, and despite the anger and frustration still digging in with a vengeance, he finds himself leaning forward, eyes shut as his forehead makes contact with Cody’s cuirass. “Please,” Comes out before he can stop it, and his whole body jerks with the strangled noise he lets out.

One of Cody’s hands finds its way into his hair, his other hand splayed between his shoulder blades and rubbing firm, steady circles into his skin, and Wolffe presses his forehead into the armor harder until he feels Cody shift in discomfort. Cody doesn’t so much sway, but it’s a near thing, and his grip tightens. “I know, _vod_ , it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I have you.”

“I’m sorry.” He gasps out, his hands coming up to clutch at Cody’s belt desperately, fingers digging in and tugging, and a sob has his whole body lurching. “Don’t- don’t leave, don’t leave me, please.”

The hand cards through his hair one more time before shifting to the back of his head, cradling. “Shh, it’s okay, I told you, I’m here.”

The right side of his face is throbbing, the pain almost as bright and overwhelming as the day he’d been wounded, and his hiss of pain turns into a hiccup embarrassingly fast. Cody pulls away, and Wolffe almost falls off the bunk at the unexpected move. He catches himself, but barely, and he holds his breath to try and stop the involuntary shudders that travel up his spine and deep into his chest.

He startles when armor is dropped surprisingly fast at his feet, and he looks up, vision blurry and terrifyingly inadequate, to see Cody kicking out of his boots. “Hang on,” He reaches over and snags the medkit out of Wolffe’s locker before padding back over and kneeling by his side. “C’mere.” He tilts Wolffe’s chin gently, almost _too gently_ , and it has another wave of emotion threatening to pull him under before he manages to stave it off.

The spray hits like a bullet on the raw flesh, followed by the overpowering smell of bacta, and Wolffe involuntarily jerks away. He doesn’t get far before Cody is turning him again, murmuring apologies all the while.

Wolffe doesn’t speak until Cody starts taping a patch on, and his voice is carefully neutral, expression blank. “They’re gone.”

Cody meets his gaze evenly, hands stilling momentarily as they regarded each other, before finally smoothing out the last of the patch.

“And I... it’s getting harder to remember them, to remember their names, their voices.” His pack had always spoken with a deep, sharp accent that he’d long forgotten the origin of, save for the few shinies they received towards the end. Boost and Sinker are all he has left, the echoes of dead men, and he _knows_ it’s wrong to see the dead in the living, knows that it’s not fair to _them_ , but he can’t seem to stop himself. “I miss them.” He says quickly, and ducks his head to avoid Cody’s gaze, picking at the sleeve of his uppers.

“ _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la_.” Cody reminds softly, and it makes Wolffe’s anger flare up again. They’re not merely _marching away_ , they’re fucking _gone_. Forever. They’re _dead_ , hundreds of their bodies no doubt still floating in space, _forgotten_ , preserved only by the frigid cold.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Wolffe seethes. “But they look pretty _karking_ gone to me.”

“Wolffe-“

“No! You don’t understand, Cody, you _don’t_. I’ve lost _everything_. What am I- _who_ am I without those men? What is a commander without a battalion to lead?”

“You’re my _vod_.” Cody says quietly, face oddly open and vulnerable, and Wolffe looks away. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It is,” Wolffe lets out a frustrated noise. “It’s just-“

“They were your _vode_ too. I know, but Wolffe, pushing everyone else away isn’t going to make it hurt less. You _have_ a battalion, and they need you.” A pause, and Cody let out a soft breath. “Bly said he’s been trying to comm you.”

Wolffe snorted wetly, cursing the moisture that sprang to his eye at the motion. “Like I need to get the third degree from Commander Perfect.”

“He just wants to _talk_ to you.” Cody drawled, brows furrowed. “He was _worried_. You did sort of get captured and tortured, you know.”

“If he wants to check on me so bad, he can read the report.”

“ _Wolffe_.” Cody snapped, and Wolffe turned his head away to avoid the full effect of his glare. “Cut the attitude. This isn’t about the _Triumphant_ , it’s been long enough for me to know that.” He paused, but Wolffe still refused to look at him, clenching his jaw at Cody’s sigh. “What’s wrong?”

Wolffe didn’t look at him, but when he spoke, he closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. “What would you do if you were in my place?”

“Consider my options, regroup and start from-“

“ _No_ , Cody, this isn’t- this isn’t a strategical operation, or a fucking _tactic_ from your playbook.” Wolffe finally looked up at him, and Cody shut his mouth after a moment of consideration. “Your battalions gone, the men you do have don’t know each other and don’t know you, a sadistic Separatist dog gets tired of making you bleed and moan and decides she likes you better with one eye.” Wolffe tilts his head, gestures vaguely with a hand. “What do you do?”

“I don’t know,” Cody answers softly, _honestly_ , and for a moment he wonders what it _would_ be like without his men, without Boil or Waxer, Wooley, Longshot or Oddball. It’s a bleak future, one he shuts down immediately. The 212th’s fate would not be the same as the late 104th’s.

“Do you know what you would _feel_?”

“Wolffe-“

“I can’t get anyone else killed, Cody. I failed the first time, I won’t again.”

Cody holds up his hands, takes a step forward. “Okay, okay, I get it.” Fighting Wolffe had always been a losing battle, something that older batches knew for a fact, but he’d almost forgotten just how resilient Wolffe was until now. He gestures to Wolffe’s bunk. “Can I...”

“Sure.” Wolffe says lamely, but let’s out a grunt when Cody practically tackles him into the bunk. “The fu-“

“Shush.” Cody grumbles, squirming around to try and get comfortable before wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him flush against his chest. “Let me have my moment.”

Wolffe huffs but relents, going limp in his hold, and Cody makes a satisfied noise. He waits until Cody’s breaths are deep and even, waits until he’s left ~~alone~~ awake staring at the opposite wall before he speaks. “Thank you.”

It isn’t until the next morning when he’s standing outside the mess, watching the men inside talking and laughing, that he wonders if he’d spoken too soon.

“You coming in, sir?”

Wolffe glances over to see a trooper in freshly painted 104th grey staring at him with a knowing look, chin tilted in a barely perceptible challenge. “Yeah, just seeing what you boys were up to.”

The trooper smirks, and it catches his attention instantly. _This_ he could work with. He’d have the kid perfecting the 104th’s charm within days, he was sure. Then, “Comet.”

“Comet.” He tests the name on his tongue, decides he likes how it sounds, and gives a sharp grin of his own. Comet’s breath stutters on an inhale, but he doesn’t look away, and Wolffe holds out his hand. “I’m Wolffe.”

“Commander,” Comet takes his hand without breaking his gaze, and _yes_ , he’ll be 104th through and through by the time Wolffe’s done with him. They all will, he thinks as he looks out at the rest of the _vode_ who have stopped all chatter to look at him expectantly, and he can hear the smirk in Comet’s voice. “Do we meet your expectations, sir?”

“To a tee.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the most random thing i’ve ever written, but just know that it was brought on solely by my love for comet/wolffe.


End file.
